


In Charge

by Dusty



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Confusion, Discipline, F/M, Punishment, Recreational spanking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt was: How about Bond, while on a mission, is caught indulging in one of his favourite kinks (administering an over the knee spanking, as per the books) with a random girl who's happy to receive... but M arrives while checking up on her wayward agent. Unimpressed by his behaviour and not sharing his tastes or approving of his 'antiquated pursuit' she dismisses everyone else and firmly gives James a taste of his own medicine. It's up to you if Bond actually likes being on the receiving end or not, but from M's point of view it should at least start out as a rather spontaneous matronly punishment of a wicked school boy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Charge

A woman?  
Yes. But it's not what you think.  
Your mother?  
She likes to think so.  
\- Quantum of Solace

The sound of the waves was like a tonic to him. He knew he was late to call in - overdue by some time, yet again. He knew there were many things he ought to be doing. But Anguilla, the very air, not to mention the Mexican beauty lying next to him, were all a perfect opiate. He couldn’t remember feeling this relaxed since…

“Ow!” he yelped. She’d bitten him.

“Oi!” he warned as she giggled at him. “I’m resting.” He shifted in the bed, still half dressed from an earlier attempt to get up, following an even earlier bout of love making. 

“But James,” she protested, her wonderful fingers reaching wonderful places. “I’m hungry. Can you fetch my breakfast?”

James frowned at her. Young and silly thing, wearing an equally silly night dress. “No,” he said firmly.

She pouted. “Then I have you for breakfast.”

It would have been an attractive proposition if not taken too literally, but as it was, she insisted on nipping him with her teeth.

“Stop that, Elena,” he growled at her, the peace of the moment evaporating. He rolled over and pinned her down, helping himself to a long kiss of her neck. She arched against him. 

“James…” she sighed. He pressed against her. This was more like it…

A sudden flash of pain in his neck shocked him away from her. His hand went to the injury. She had drawn blood.

Using his other hand to keep her in place, he glowered at her.

“Did you just bite my neck?”

She squirmed and giggled beneath him, girlish and harmless, eyes flashing defiantly.

“You are my breakfast! James para el desayuno!” 

“Right,” said James sternly. In one deft move he was sitting on the edge of the bed with a laughing Elena dangling over his knee. “Naughty girls don’t get breakfast.”

He brought his hand down on her bottom with a loud smack. 

She wriggled. “Oh James, lo siento!” But she was still giggling. 

James smirked and slapped her buttocks again. 

A torrent of delighted Spanish with an occasional squeal was her response as he did his best to take her in hand – not too hard, not too gentle, nice and firm… yes. This was much better. He laid down a few more playful slaps.

“Now are you going to behave…” he began. But a crash at the door of his hotel room cut him off. 

He looked up. To his abject horror, M was standing in the middle of the room. Behind her some of her best henchmen; one had propped open the door with a fire extinguisher. 

“Hit that woman one more time and I’ll have you shot,” she said simply. 

James was speechless for longer than he’d ever been speechless before. Then remembering himself, and especially remembering he was by sheer luck wearing trousers, he brought Elena up to standing.

“You need to run along now,” he said dangerously. “This is business.”

Elena looked like she would cry, and James almost felt bad for her, until he caught M’s eye. He acted quickly.

“Out, now, “ he barked. 

Another torrent of Spanish – this time less delighted and certainly devoid of happy squeals, and Elena gathered her things. She held herself with dignity as she passed M, but was suddenly pulled from the room by two of M’s henchmen. 

James was up, pulling on his shirt in record timing and even had his tie around his neck before the admonishment began.

“What on earth did you think you were doing?” started M. James cleared his throat. This was going to be bad and he had an audience. 

“Have you learned nothing? They really are just toys to you, aren’t they?”

“She wasn’t complaining,” replied James nonchalantly.

“She wouldn’t know how to,” stated M. “She thinks it’s normal for a man to treat her like that.”

“Just because it isn’t your thing doesn’t mean other consenting adults can’t enjoy it, M,” chided James, straightening his tie.

“Would you enjoy it?” asked M evenly.

James smiled, “Well obviously I do…” he trailed off. He turned to look at her. Her eyes bore into him. Her entourage had left the room and it was just him and her now. Suddenly her question took on a new meaning.

“Oh, you mean…”

“Yes I do. Would you enjoy being held over someone’s knee while they smacked your bottom?”

James tried to straighten his tie again. He swallowed, then shrugged. “Depends whose knee,” he said with courage, but he knew he didn’t sound convincing. He most certainly would not like that.

M said, “I can’t imagine your parents took too kindly to some of your antics when you were a boy. And yes, I know all about that.”

James glared at her sullenly. Long lost memories of childhood swam in his mind; a broken glass he shouldn’t have touched, bedtimes he wouldn’t observe, his mother pulling him by the hand up the stairs to his bedroom. 

M approached him steadily. “Perhaps you would prefer to be punished as you were at Eton?”

“No!” said James with some anger. “It’s different. I can’t expect you to understand. It’s just a game. It’s not real. They like it, I like it.” 

He made to cross the room to the door.

“Not on company time you don’t,” snapped M, her tone so severe that James stopped in his tracks. He forced himself to meet her gaze.

“You were supposed to check in with me yesterday. Again this morning. You continually embarrass me by defying my orders in front of my staff. I come in to intervene and I am confronted with this scene!”

James tried not to flinch as M gesticulated, waving her hand dismissively through the air, condemning him and his actions. Her voice was slightly raised; something she never did with him. He felt his ears burning as she continued.

“You’re damn right I don’t like it. Consenting adults indeed. Abusing women for relaxation. You’re not even on holiday, OO7!”

Now his throat was dry. He hated it when she did this. Castigating him like a schoolboy. He squirmed against his will, the memory of childhood punishments looming in his mind after what she’d said. Spoiling his fun. Abusing women?

“It’s between her and me!” he heard himself shout. “I can’t help it if you’re too uptight to understand. Not all women need to be in charge all the time!”

M paled, eyes blazing, and James gave in to the startling fact he was scared. She was furious with him now. Could this be it? Suspension? Dismissal? He regretted his words immediately and could feel himself shrinking away from her. 

M growled, “Well this woman is bloody well in charge of you!” 

She moved in and grabbed him by the arm. James let her, instinctively knowing he’d gone too far and his best chance now, be it for his job or even just for her, was to be contrite. Before he knew it she had pushed him towards the sofa. 

“Bend over, OO7,” came the steely order.

“Ma’am?” rasped James, complying and leaning in before he could think. She firmly placed his hands on the back of the sofa. 

“Stay still,” she barked, standing just behind him. “You know I don’t approve of your womanising, the way you always have to reduce them. I don’t much care if they’re up for it or not – each to their own, but the fact you have to carry on like this on company time – my time, is totally unacceptable. Now I have to discipline you for the way you’ve behaved and I can’t think of a better demonstration of the punishment fitting the crime. I can’t afford to lose you, and neither can the mission. So you’ll damn well take what I give you, here and now. Is that clear?”

James felt his arms tremble and his face heat up as she firmly pushed him further into a bent over position.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The next thing he knew, a hard, stinging swat had landed on his trouser clad bottom. He gasped, ashamed to display any discomfort, determined to stay in position. He’d been tortured and beaten – he could take this. This was nothing.

But his lip trembled. He bit it, to keep it under control.

Smack.

He was sure her hands weren’t that big…

Smack.

Such a strong hand…

Smack.

She was far too small…

Smack.

He gasped again, the power of her swats propelling him into the sofa. He straightened up a little.

“Don’t you dare!” came the stern reprimand. He slunk back into his position, receiving another three smacks in the process. M’s other hand was placed firmly, but gently, on his back.

Smack.

He was bigger than her and could overpower her easily.

Smack. 

But he didn’t want to.

Smack.

He wanted her to forgive him.

Smack.

It was starting to hurt now. Oh the shame of it. 

Smack. Smack. Smack. 

She started to scold him, “You’re damn right I don’t understand your game, OO7.”

James smarted at the use of his code name. The incongruity of being spanked like a child by his boss. Perhaps she was driving her point home now. The smacks fell hard and regularly as James shifted on his feet. His breath hitched. 

“M…” he murmured, but he was ignored.

She continued, “For me this has always been a form of punishment. I don’t understand how it could be pleasurable. But then again, I think perhaps I have always wanted to do this to you and teach you a damn good lesson, so maybe there’s something in it after all.” 

James shuddered into a suppressed sob and buried his face in his arms as M landed another hard slap on his sit spot. She paused for the briefest of moments before angrily delivering a relentless volley of smacks to her wayward agent’s clothed backside without a word.

Her hand hurt. She stopped. James was breathing hard, face hidden. She knew he could be boyish but this was something else. She had a boy on her hands now. 

M took a deep breath and tenderly placed her hands on his shoulders. 

“James,” she said softly. He was rigid beneath her, quiet but for hitched breathing. Was he crying? She swallowed down the panic that threatened to rise, the fear that she’d really done something terrible, and focussed on her instincts. With one hand, she stroked his hair. 

“James.”

His shoulder quivered, accompanied by a muffled sniff. Slowly, he raised his face. Crumpled and red, but no tears. M silently sighed with relief, one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hair. She perched next to him on the arm of the sofa, suddenly sad that he wasn’t a little boy, that she couldn’t pull him into her lap and comfort him. 

He refused to meet her eyes, but made no move to avoid her touch. Slightly, ever so slightly, he leaned his head into her, and she knew she was forgiven. Finally the fight went out of him and he relaxed into the sofa, still allowing M’s tender ministrations. 

“Don’t ever make me do that again,” she said quietly. “My hand is killing me.”

He snorted. Typical M. “Should have used a cane,” he said casually.

“I could never do that,” came her firm tone. He now looked directly at her. She clearly meant it. “Naughty boys get smacked bottoms,” she said with the faintest trace of a smile. “Time to grow up, OO7.”

“And naughty girls?” he dared ask.

M looked towards the door, where she last saw the girl being escorted out of the room, then back at James. 

“They get deported,” she said simply. 

“That doesn’t sound like equality to me, M,” said James. 

“All’s fair in love and war, Bond. Now get back to work.”

“Yes ma’am,” said James, collecting his suit jacket and other possessions as M straightened her clothing and made for the door. 

“M?”

She turned to look at him. 

“I’m sorry.”

It took all the strength she had not to melt on the spot. Not to hold him in her arms. Not to smack his bottom one last time. Not to kiss him and keep him safe.

She blinked, remembering herself, alarmed by the swirl of impulses that encased her.

“Good,” she said, more sweetly than she’d intended. Then abruptly: “Out.” 

And James obeyed.


End file.
